“There’s not much to know, really. Most everything was in my application, or on my resume.” I nodded, but pressed forward.
“Then tell me one thing that’s not on the application. Just one thing.” She looked up, opened her mouth and then closed it.
“Um, well…” she trailed off and thought for a moment. “I’m an only child?” She made it sound like a question.
“Me too. But you knew that.” Lilia nodded and I figured if I didn’t want to spend the rest of this lunch waiting for my poor assistant to come out of her shell, I was going to have to carry the conversation.
“I used to wish for a sibling. A sister. Then I went to college and met Sloane and figured I’d been better off,” I said and we both laughed.
“I always wanted a little brother for some reason,” she said, picking up her fork and resuming eating her lunch. “No idea why, but I’m also glad that it didn’t happen.”
That got us talking about siblings and friends and how close you could get to someone who you weren’t blood-related to.
“Sloane barely talks to her family. And then there’s Lucah and he’s incredibly close with his brothers. Sometimes a little too close. I’m just praying that his brother doesn’t get kicked out of his apartment again. But I suppose he’d just move in with Sloane and I’d be off the hook.”
“Yeah, I definitely would be uncomfortable with that,” she said. We talked some more and she finally started opening up.
Her parents were older when they’d had her. Reading between the lines they sounded like the type of people who perhaps didn’t plan on having children, but got one anyway. They were still living in Brookline in the house she’d grown up in and she saw them every few weeks. I gathered she wasn’t that close with them.
“And friends?” I asked. Her answer was a shrug.
“I spend a lot of time at the library and drinking coffee at a table by myself. You know my social skills aren’t the best. It’s hard meeting people when you’re older. Especially once you’ve graduated from school.” She had that right. I’d been lucky to find Sloane and then Marisol and Chloe. I barely talked to anyone else I’d gone to college with. The first year or so after graduation we’d kept in touch, but life happens so the calls and emails become less frequent and then stopped altogether. Sure, there was the random Facebook comment every now and then, but it wasn’t the same.
“Well, you’re always welcome to hang out with me and my friends. If you want. But you wouldn’t offend me if you turned me down.” She reminded me a lot of Marisol, only a slightly less bubbly version.
“I know. I really appreciate it,” she said, her face going a little red again. I made a mental note to try this again. She was going to be a tough nut to crack, but I knew it would be worth it in the end.
~*~*~
“Oh, Rory. It’s just…” my mom blubbered that Saturday as I stood in front of her large silver-framed mirror. Sloane had not only brought the dress, pins, needles and thread, but a jumbo box of tissues. I had never seen my mother cry this much at once. Ever. It was as if she’d been saving up all her tears over the years to use on this particular situation. If I hadn’t been so distracted, I might have been far more uncomfortable with it.
I was having trouble keeping back the tears myself. The hair and makeup artists were also here and they’d done a practice run of the makeup and hair for the big day. Thankfully, I still looked like me, but much more polished. My hair was done in large, looping curls that had been gathered back in a casual updo, with the veil pinned on top. I hadn’t wanted to do a tiara. It felt too garish. My makeup was a jacked up version of what I usually did, including ruby red lips. I even had my red shoes on. All I needed was my bouquet and I was good to go.
“I know, I know,” Sloane said, gripping onto Mom with both arms. They really were making an awful fuss. I slowly turned and almost moaned at the beauty of the train. Sloane had outdone herself. She really had. And to top it off, she’d designed special undergarments that were built into the dress so I didn’t have any wardrobe malfunctions and end up on Youtube as the Flashing Bride.
“She’s…” Mom just gestured up and down at me.
“Okay, you can both stop it,” I said, blushing at the praise.
“No. I’m your mother and I’m proud of the daughter I created,” Mom said, her chin defiant. There was no arguing with her, so I decided not to bother. “And if anyone says that you’re not the most beautiful bride ever, I’d… I’d do something drastic.” I covered my mouth to stifle a laugh. My mother had never wished violence upon anyone, but this was as close as she’d ever gotten.
“It’s perfect,” Sloane said, making absolutely sure the dress fit for the hundredth time.
“It is, Sloane. It’s more than I could have dreamed of.” There was no way I could have dreamed this up. I turned so I could give Sloane a hug and she screeched so loud I wanted to cover my ears.
“No! No moving until the big day. Moving can cause things to fall over and spill and leave stains. NOTHING is happening to this dress until the big day, okay? Okay.” She had obviously had a lot of caffeine today. Sloane always got a little manic when she had too much caffeine. Her hands fluttered around like anxious birds as she placed the train so it swooped out like I was a bride in a magazine. I’d forbidden her from taking any pictures of it. I was a little paranoid that somehow Lucah was going to hack into someone’s phone in order to get pictures of the dress beforehand. Hell, I worked at a tech company. There were plenty of people who were up to the task.
Mom started crying again, so Sloane had to bring out some more tissues. It was all getting a little ridiculous, but I didn’t want to take the dress off.
“Now if you make yourself one, then we can sit around and drink beer like Monica, Rachel and Phoebe on FRIENDS,” I said, doing another twirl for good measure.
“Who’s to say I haven’t?” Sloane said, a satisfied smirk on her face. Of course. Of course she’d already made herself a wedding dress. She’d probably made dozens for different types of weddings or different moods.
“You know, you could always do a wedding line,” I said, but she immediately shook her head.
“No way. That market is beyond crowded already. No way I’m going up against Vera and Pnina and Lhullier and the rest of the Tulle Mafia. That’s a club that I don’t think I could ever break into.” I wanted to chuckle about the “Tulle Mafia” but she did have a point.
“Now if someone famous saw something else I’d designed and asked me to make a dress, then I might consider it. But this was special for you, because you’re my favorite.” She blew me a kiss and I blew one back.